Flametouched Read online

  Without thinking, Arianne stood and retrieved the bracelet, seeing the paints that Baron Carver used to detail it on the floor under the table. Just as with the rosebud, it seemed like it was hers even though he had said nothing. She found Baron Carver watching her.

  “This is for me, isn’t it?” she inquired, feeling a little foolish.

  “So you can tell,” Baron Carver said. “I wondered if they called to their owners as the wood calls to me.”

  She moved the bracelet toward her wrist and a section of intertwined roots pulled apart, allowing her to slip it on easily. Once in place, the roots knotted together and the leaves along the vines expanded outward, tiny pink flowers blooming along the entire length. She smiled in wonderment and turned it over for several moments, admiring the craftsmanship and the delightful magic behind it. As with her rosebud, she could order the flowers and leaves to retract and expand at will. Baron Carver was a marvel.

  She sat back down. “This is beautiful! I thank you, Mr. Harper. I think I have very nearly forgiven you, now. I do confess, however, that I had a mind to slap your face to a nice boiled red for abandoning us at Hightower.”

  Baron Carver put his head back on his pillow, eyes closed.

  “I thank you for your forgiveness, Lady Hightower. Moving the danger away from you and Miss Brighton was my only objective. I am glad you are here safely. The sabercat is for Miss Brighton. I passed a stack of firewood and I saw it there. I had the oddest thought that the other sabercat might be lonely. It’s a female. I apologize if that seems odd. It is odd to me.”

  “She will be delighted,” Arianne said. “She named the other one Fangs. I will bring her down tomorrow so she can see you and you can give it to her then. Is there anything I can get for you? Some water, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you,” he replied. “The nurse is very dedicated to my water consumption. You do need to take the ledgers to the High Sheriff, however.”

  Arianne thought she could detect the barest hint of a self-congratulatory smile on his lips, the kind men always got when they thought they were being clever.

  “Where are they?” she asked. “In your domicile, or with Mr. Lambert?”

  “They are in the false bottom of your trunks. I had Mr. Garvis put them there after I left.”

  Arianne’s eyes shot wide. “But I thought you had the ledgers!”

  “I had ledgers, just not the ones in question. Whoever shot me got the ledgers I had and is now discovering what your late husband’s grandfather ate for meals and spent on parties one hundred years ago.”

  Arianne laughed. “Very clever, Mr. Harper—and very foolish to get yourself shot over one hundred year old ledgers! Are you well enough to relate the tale?”

  He began with his preparations with Mr. Garvis and told her all. He was light on the details of the shooting, probably to spare her mortification, but Arianne had little difficulty filling in the blanks. Lord Carver was extraordinary, his manner an odd blend of rugged and refined—and was a far kinder man than she had imagined him to be. How he had ever loved the cruel Emile Ironhorn was beyond her, unless her beauty completely unhinged his brain and blinded him to her true nature.

  Near the end of his story she could see he was flagging, the pauses in the narrative lengthening and his eyes closing more frequently and for longer periods.

  “I will go now, Mr. Harper,” she announced softly. “You take your rest, and I will visit you tomorrow. I thank you sincerely for everything you have done. I owe you a great deal.”

  “It was my pleasure to serve you,” he said sleepily. “Don’t worry, my Lady. This will all be over soon and you’ll be free of danger and disobedient clerks.”

  She left him and headed for her apartments, a sudden feeling of loss washing over her. What would become of Baron Carver now that the affair with her estate was out of his hands? Was he to disappear inside of Mr. Lambert’s office and do figures for the rest of his life? It seemed a waste to her. Perhaps the Queen would knight him after all and he would be given some small estate. There were two vacant properties near Hightower that would suit a man like him perfectly. One was even close to the Elder Forest that he had so enjoyed visiting.

  She entered her rooms quietly so as not to disturb her sister, but found that Elaine had forced herself to stay awake to await her return. The bloodstained sabercat crouched next to her on the bed standing sentry. Her little sister wasn’t so little anymore, and from time to time the young woman in her displaced the girl. While her mother pushed for the woman, Arianne secretly hoped that the girl would remain a while longer.

  Elaine yawned and stretched to wake herself further. “Did you see Mr. Harper, Arianne?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “Why don’t we talk about it in the morning, dear? You’re about to faint,” Arianne suggested, not wanting to upset her before bed.

  She would have none of it. “What is it, Arianne?”

  “He has been shot twice, but he is well. He is recovering, and I will take you to see him tomorrow.”

  Elaine gasped. “That is awful! Can I go see him now? I’ll have Missa come dress me!”

  Arianne sat beside her and took her hand. “Not tonight. He is sleeping now. I promise we will see him first thing after breakfast.”

  She nodded, and picked up her sabercat. “You know, I think Fangs gets lonely during the day when I out. I think I’ll ask Mr. Harper to carve a girl sabercat for him to keep him company.”

  Goosebumps bloomed on Arianne’s skin. Extraordinary man, indeed!

  Chapter 21

  Miss Orianna Moreshire, Emile Carver’s Lady’s Maid, arrived just after breakfast as promised. Missa busied herself with Elaine, who—as Arianne had expected would happen—was dressed rather coquettishly. Her younger sister had fretted all morning, wanting to see Mr. Harper as soon as possible. The ledgers, as Baron Carver had indicated, had been stowed neatly in the false bottoms of her and Elaine’s trunks. Now they were locked safely away in the armoire.

  Arianne had sent word to the Queen that she had an urgent matter to discuss with her after breakfast and hoped she would be able to free up mid-morning tea. She was eager to put the matter to rest, and while not as outwardly enthusiastic as Elaine, she, too, wanted to see how Baron Carver fared. His brief stay at Hightower seemed to connect him to their fates, and she felt honor bound to care for him until he could manage on his own. She owed him a great deal and wondered how best to reward him for his service to Hightower.

  Orianna heated the curling rod on a rack above the coals of the fire. She appeared drawn, unhappy, and even a little pale. Since her arrival, she had answered all courtesies and questions laconically, and Arianne wondered how to steer the conversation toward Lord Carver without causing her undue distress. Arianne could hardly fault her for extracting little joy in her service to widow Lady Carver. Who knew what terrors the vain, silly woman inflicted on her Lady’s Maid?

  “So how do you find Frostbourne, Miss Moreshire?” Arianne asked, finding someplace safe to start. “I hear the winters are quite dreadful.”

  “We do have the Wasting Wind for two weeks in the winter,” she answered, returning from the fire with the rod, “and it does get colder earlier than most places, but the summers and autumns are pleasant. It is a bit lonely there. Lady Carver is always complaining that there is no good shopping within a hundred miles. I suppose that’s true. It’s not a place to go if you care much about fashion.”

  Arianne couldn’t help but grin. Oh how Emile must hate it! “And is it true that the late Lord Carver rebuilt the estate’s wealth from practically nothing?”

  Orianna’s countenance changed almost immediately from somber to bright. “He did. The townspeople talk of it constantly. He’s a bit of a hero to them. He was a lord, but he learned to do low work so he could save money and pay off debts. They talk of how he would grow his own garden, hunt for his own food, clean the huge manor where he lived alone. Washed his own clothes. K
ept up the yard. Cooked his own food. And he has always been a good master. Well, he was.”

  Encouraged by the girl’s enthusiasm, Arianne plunged right in. “Widow Lady Carver certainly didn’t think much of him, if you’ll forgive me for noticing.”

  Red rose in her cheeks, her eyes narrowing. “Everyone, and I do mean everyone, Lady Hightower, loved Baron Davon Carver except Emile Ironhorn. I didn’t begin my service with her until after they were married, but he did everything he could to make her happy and she treated him cruelly at every turn.” Her voice began to break. “I could hardly stand it last night when she talked of him with such mockery and disdain. I know you likely think ill of him for what he did to your husband, but he was a good man, Lady Hightower. I swear by the Flame.”

  “I believe you, Miss Moreshire,” she soothed, amazed by the girl’s reaction. She obviously had loved him, too. She continued, “I do not fault Lord Carver for defending his fiancée’s honor. I’m sorry if my question upset you.”

  The smell of burning hair filled the room as Orianna set about her work. The girl snuffled a bit, choking back tears. “I am sorry, my Lady. I’ve had a hard time letting Lord Carver go, and I have to endure Lady Carver’s insults and disrespect for him almost daily.”

  “What about him do you miss so much?” Arianne asked. “Did you spend much time with him?”

  Arianne watched Orianna’s face in the mirror, and the young lady smiled wistfully at the question.

  “Not as much time with him as much as around him,” she answered. “I don’t know how to express it. I’ve worked in two noble households, and, well, he was different. I think it was because he had to endure poverty when he was young, but he treated everyone like they were important. He took no pleasure in ordering anyone around, said please and thank you to the lowliest pig farmers, would ask for opinions of his servants and listen. He was never harsh or cruel. He was just what I always imagined a good man would be. I hope I don’t sound too silly, Lady Hightower. Nor do I wish to imply that we had a special friendship of any kind. He was good to everyone, including me.”

  Arianne felt like she was beginning to understand Baron Carver more clearly now, though she couldn’t help but wonder how bad his marriage must have been to have inspired him to leave Frostbourne. Had he any notion of how his people loved him, or was he only able to see how much Lady Carver didn’t?

  “Thank you, Miss Moreshire. One more question. I have recently lost the steward of my house and noticed in the paper this morning that a Mr. Saunders was advertising himself. He mentioned that he was the steward of Frostbourne. I thought I might interview him. What did you think of him?”

  Orianna shook her head, a mirthful smile coming to her lips. “Lady Carver hated him! Lord Carver swore by him. I warn you that he is thrifty to a fault and an old military man. You might desire someone a bit more genteel for an estate as grand as Hightower, My Lady.”

  Arianne smiled. “Genteel? Is he a bit rough around the manners?”

  “He speaks plainly, My Lady. Very plainly. And loudly. He’ll act the same way for a duke or a street urchin.”

  “Consistency is a good quality for a steward,” Arianne said. “But I have one more question for you, after all. So what’s to become of you once your Lady marries the very tall Earl Tahbor?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose I’ll be putting my name in the papers, too. I don’t think I am quite fancy enough for an Earl’s wife.”

  “Nonsense,” Arianne said, wanting to do the girl a good turn. “If you are released, I insist you write to me first. If you’re willing to come this far east, I can probably find you employment, especially since you are a master with hair. You are very talented.”

  Orianna blushed. “You are very kind, Lady Hightower. I am finished. Do you need me for anything else?”

  Arianne stood, turning her head to admire the curls. It was good work. “If you could help me into my dress, I would be much obliged. Are you about ready, Elaine?”

  “I’ve been ready since breakfast, Arianne,” she returned grumpily.

  Arianne chose to match Elaine’s flirty attire so that Baron Carver wouldn’t think that Elaine was pursuing him. If they both dressed for pursuit, that meant neither of them was, or at least she reasoned it so.

  She chose a cream colored dress with a deep maroon surcoat embroidered with golden thread. She had worn it many times before she wed, but little since. It emphasized just the right curves, and when she saw herself in the mirror she felt a little spark from the days when she was Elaine’s age and the world revolved around romance and attracting the right sort of man.

  “Your Ladyship looks extraordinary,” Orianna complimented her. “As do you, Miss Brighton.”

  Arianne thanked her and Orianna left. The door had hardly stayed closed for three seconds when Elaine took her hand and dragged her out into the hallway. Arianne wondered if Elaine had ever acted this way over a man before and what it was, exactly, that Baron Carver had done to win her enthusiastic good opinion.

  Orianna’s words provided the likely answer: “He treated everyone like they were important.” Perhaps that was what drew Elaine so powerfully. Her mother and father taught them that they were important but never treated them as such until they were married. Arianne remembered feeling like a nuisance until she was betrothed to Viscount Trevain Cornton of Hightower. Baron Carver had treated her sister with friendly respect, and something in Elaine reverberated the welcome and proper attention.

  When they arrived at the infirmary, Doctor Otis greeted them. “Lady Hightower and…?”

  “Good morning, Doctor. This is my sister, Miss Brighton.”

  He genuflected. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m afraid that we had to move your friend, Mr. Harper. He decided to take another unauthorized excursion into town to get some paint for his carvings. I had the house guard track him down, and in the ensuing chase Mr. Harper managed to reopen the wound to his leg. When the Queen heard of it she ordered him placed in a nearby room under guard. I need to check up on him, so if you’ll follow me.”

  Arianne covered a smirk with her hand. Baron Carver definitely had an independent streak in him, probably born of his long days alone while recovering his estate. As they approached the room, the doctor asked the guard outside if Mr. Harper had offered any more trouble, to which he responded in the negative. Doctor Otis knocked on the door and cracked it.

  “Doctor Otis and two ladies to see you, Mr. Harper. Are you dressed?”

  “Yes. Come in,” came the reply.

  They all went in together. The room was one typically used for those having a protracted illness or who needed special care. A comfortable bed, tables, an armoire, and a desk allowed room for a couch for visitors. Mr. Harper, wearing a loose white shirt and the split brown pants, sat near a bright window, his paints scattered around the snake-like walking stick Arianne had seen the night before. Somehow, he had finished it. He reapplied his unnecessary glasses and politely stood, welcoming them and inviting them to sit. To Arianne’s relief, his face had a little more color than the previous evening despite his recent misadventures, though dark circles still ringed his tired eyes.

  “How are you feeling, Mr. Harper?” the doctor asked, examining the bandage on the leg. “It appears the wound has closed again.”

  “I am fit, Doctor, thank you. I request to be released to my own recognizance.”

  The doctor threw him a disapproving look. “Hardly, Mister. You do as you’re told and lay still for two days and I’ll consider it. I’ll leave you to the ladies then.”

  He left quickly, and Baron Carver turned his chair toward them, his countenance worn and sleepy. “You both are always so beautiful,” he said, seeming lost in some thought. “Have I lost track of the day? Has the Day of Burning ball arrived?”

  Elaine blushed and Arianne was surprised to find that she was too. “You are too kind, Mr. Harper. The ball is still two weeks off. How do you fare?”

  “I feel a bi
t better, but more tired,” he said. “I am glad you came. Did you find the ledgers?”

  “Yes, of course,” Arianne answered. “You needn’t trouble yourself about them anymore. You need to forget all these troubles and do as the doctor says so you can recover. Will you promise me you will, for our sakes?”

  “The ledgers are your business, Lady Hightower,” he said. “I won’t inquire into the matter further unless your request it.”

  “Then rest, Mr. Harper!” she urged, a little annoyed by his apparent insistence that all she cared about when she visited him were the bloody ledgers. “Promise me you will stay in bed and get well. No more running around town for wood and paint and whatever else you are looking for.”

  “Yes,” Elaine added. “Do promise, Mr. Harper. You must get well so the Queen can knight you.”

  He laughed, and Arianne could hear the tinge of bitterness in it.

  He regarded Elaine kindly. “I don’t think that will happen, young Miss, though I thank you for the thought that I am worthy of it. One moment. I have something for you. He reached down into his carving bag near the table and pulled out the companion sabercat, placing it on the floor. “I thought the other might be lonely.”

  Elaine’s eyes opened wide. “But how did you know? Did you tell him, Arianne?”

  “I did not.”

  Elaine concentrated and the sabercat came to life, bounding across the room and into the eager hands of its new owner. The satisfied smile on Baron Carver’s face touched Arianne. He truly relished seeing the joy his gifts brought. His marriage to Emile continued to make less and less sense. As much as Arianne despised the woman, she now wanted to spend more time with her to see if she could divine just one redeeming quality—besides her looks—that would have attracted a man like Davon Carver. He was so warm and gentle.